Late February
By Ted Kooser
The first warm day,
and by mid-afternoon
the snow is no more
than a washing
strewn over the yards,
the bedding rolled in knots
and leaking water,
the white shirts lying
under the evergreens.
Through the heaviest drifts
rise autumn's fallen
bicycles, small carnivals
of paint and chrome,
the Octopus
and Tilt-A-Whirl
beginning to turn
in the sun. Now children,
stiffened by winter
and dressed, somehow,
like old men, mutter
and bend to the work
of building dams.
But such a spring is brief;
by five o'clock
the chill of sundown,
darkness, the blue TVs
flashing like storms
in the picture windows,
the yards gone gray,
the wet dogs barking
at nothing. Far off
across the cornfields
staked for streets and sewers,
the body of a farmer
missing since fall
will show up
in his garden tomorrow,
as unexpected
as a tulip.
二月末
首个温暖日子
下午三点
雪如待洗的衣服
铺满整个院子
被褥打结起毛
水漏出
白衬衫
平铺在常青树下
穿过最重的积雪
复苏的秋天跌落下
自行车，油漆和铬的
嘉年华
章鱼
和旋转椅
开始转动
在阳光下。如今小孩
在冬天冻僵
不知何故，穿着
像老人，喃喃自语
埋头工作
建造水坝
这样的春天如此短暂
到五点钟
日落的寒意
黑暗，蓝色电视机
如风暴飞旋
在落地窗里
院子变灰
湿漉漉的狗吠叫
无人处。遥远
的玉米地
标注街道和下水道
农夫的尸体
失踪，因为秋天
在明日将降临
在他的菜园
意外
如一朵郁金香 |
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